You Won't Believe What Karlie Kloss Did Now (It's Not Modeling, Obviously)
Look, I know we're all supposed to be outraged about something every 15 minutes, but can we all just stop for a sec and appreciate the sheer audacity of Karlie Kloss? The 6'2" supermodel who married into the Kushner family fortune (yes, *those* Kushners) has apparently decided that the world needs *another* chapter in the saga of "Rich People Doing Stuff That Makes You Feel Poor."
So, Karlie Kloss, she of the Victoria's Secret wings and the "I'm just a girl from St. Louis" origin story that feels about as authentic as a $3 bill, has officially gone full tech-bro mode. I'm not talking about her coding camp for girls—that's cute, we get it, you're a "STEM queen." No, I'm talking about her latest pivot: Karlie Kloss is now a venture capitalist. Like, actually. She's raised a fund. She's cutting checks. She's probably wearing a Patagonia vest over a designer dress while doing it.
Let just let that sink in for a second. The woman who literally walked the runway for brands that cost more than my annual rent is now deciding which startups get to *maybe* one day be as rich as her in-laws. The irony is so thick you could spread it on a bagel from that overpriced place in Williamsburg.
What's her fund called? "Kloss Ventures"? "The K-Fund"? No, you sweet summer child, it's called "The Kode With Klossy Fund," because of course it is. She's taking that non-profit coding camp she started in 2015 and turning it into a for-profit investment vehicle. Because nothing says "empowering young women in tech" like turning them into future landlords who can afford a studio in San Francisco. The press release was peak "I'm Not Like Other Models"—she's an "operator," a "builder," a "disruptor." Bro, you're a model. A very successful one. You're not writing algorithms. You're wearing clothes.
The whole thing reeks of the same energy as when Gwyneth Paltrow tries to sell you a $75 candle that smells like "my vagina." It's aspirational nonsense designed to make you feel like if you just *believed* hard enough, you too could be a 5'8" (or whatever "tall" is in normal people terms) billionaire's wife with a side hustle in venture capital. But let's be real: Karlie didn't get into VC because she's a visionary. She got in because her husband, Joshua Kushner, is literally a venture capitalist. He's the founder of Thrive Capital, a firm that's thrown money at Instagram, Stripe, and Spotify. So, Karlie's "fund" is basically the ultimate nepotism play. "Hey babe, can I have a little bit of your money to play with?" "Sure, honey, just don't embarrass me at the board meetings."
And the best part? The media is eating it up like it's a groundbreaking move. "Supermodel Turns Tech Titan!" "From Runway to Boardroom!" Meanwhile, the actual women in VC are like, "I had to grind for 15 years, sleep on a friend's couch, and cold-call 500 founders before I got my first check. But sure, Karlie Kloss gets a fund because she can walk in heels and her husband's family is basically a political dynasty." It's giving "white woman's tears" energy, but make it "First Round Capital."
But here's where it gets spicy, because you know there's drama. Karlie Kloss has famously distanced herself from the Kushner clan, especially after her husband's brother, Jared, went full White House advisor under Trump. Karlie was all over the "I'm a Democrat" and "I support Planned Parenthood" and "I love my country" vibes. She even posed for a photo at the DNC wearing a "I'm With Her" shirt. Then she married into the family that literally helped the other side. The cognitive dissonance is so strong it could power a Tesla.
So now, she's trying to rebrand herself as a "tech philanthropist" and "investor." It's the ultimate 2024 move: if you can't win the political argument, just pivot to something that makes money and looks virtuous. It's like when a YouTuber apologizes for a scandal and then launches a "wellness" brand. "I'm sorry I married into a family that supports policies that hurt millions of people. Here, have a coding scholarship and a check for a startup that makes AI-powered dog collars."
And let's talk about the startups she's allegedly backing. The fund is supposedly focused on "women and underrepresented founders." Because nothing says "underrepresented" like a supermodel with a Kushner bank account. It's the same energy as when celebrities start a "sustainable" clothing line that's just fast fashion with a green logo. "We're saving the planet, one $400 t-shirt at a time!"
You can already picture the pitch meetings. A nervous founder walks into a glass-walled conference room in SoHo. Karlie is there, looking like she just stepped off a cover of Vogue, sipping a matcha latte. "So, tell me about your idea. Is it disruptive? Does it scale? Does it align with my personal brand?" The founder, probably a woman of color who actually grew up poor, stumbles through a presentation about a medical device for low-income communities. Karlie nods, says "I love your hustle," and then asks if they can do a photoshoot for her Instagram.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying Karlie Kloss is a bad person. She's probably nice. She's definitely successful. She's just the physical embodiment of everything that's exhausting about American capitalism. We've created a system where the richest people get to play "philanthropist" and "investor" while the rest of us are just trying to figure out how to afford eggs. And she's the poster child for
Final Thoughts
After covering Karlie Kloss’s evolution from runway star to tech entrepreneur, it’s clear her real genius isn’t just in striking a pose—it’s in recognizing that influence without substance is just a hollow brand. She’s shrewdly leveraged her platform to demystify coding for young women, a move that feels less like a celebrity side hustle and more like a calculated pivot toward lasting relevance. In an industry that chews up icons and spits out nostalgia, Kloss has done something rare: she’s built a second act that actually matters.